Down the Straight and Narrow
by Auua Ytjoml
Summary: The future of the Once and Future King has arrived and the people of Camelot, now legends, grapple with the unknown. In the balance hangs the fate of magic and all they hold dear... and not even prophecy or the destinies of old can truly chart their paths into the rising light of the promised Golden Age. (Resurrection. Trigger Warning. No Slash.)
1. The Beginning

**Critiques and comments always welcome.**

_"and I will cut off sorceries from your hand,  
and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes"_

- Michah 5:12

_Men fall on all sides, knights and saxons alike dying at his mere glance. Small figures run from corpse to corpse, now beautiful children picking at their jeweled swords, now glossy crows picking at their torn flesh. He sweeps on. Ahead of him, alone in the carnage, stands a solitary figure, wreathed in dust. He lifts his sword, steps through the mist of blood, and slides his blade through the man's chain mail. He twists it, opening the wound even further. Blood spurts out blinding him. By the time he wipes the blood from his eyes the features of his victim are no longer veiled by the haze._

"Arthur."

_His king smiles sadly as if Merlin is nothing but an errant child. "You can't kill me Merlin."_

"Arthur."

_Merlin stares in horror at his hands as the flesh withers and blows away like dust, leaving nothing but skeletal palms. Those too crumble into nothing and Merlin is falling. The stars reach out like daggers to grab him and pin him to the rotting corpses littering the battlefield of Camlan. _

"Arthur!"

_"__Uh-uh, Merlin. We're all dead. Even me. But I'm waiting for you. You know what you have to do."_

"Arthur!"

The pale walls of his room leap out at him promising him life with their sterile gleam. He fumbles at his wrists. They're free. He's been good for so long. He promised he'd be good. That he wouldn't hurt anyone.

_"__But you killed us all. Don't you remember Merlin?"_

"Nnnoo. I didn't kill anyone. I didn't. Really."

The voices laugh. "But o_f course you did Merlin. Why wouldn't you?"_

"No." He presses his hands to his ears digging his nails into the tender flesh at their tips trying to drive out the accusations with pain.

_"__You, warlock, are a monster."_

"No. No I'm not. I'll prove it to you."

The loose bedspring, the one he's been working on all month, is suddenly in his hand. He stares at it in fascination. It gleams dully in the florescent light filtering its way in from the hallway. He smiles beatifically. "I know what to do Arthur."

Almost gently he runs the sharp spring down his arm. They'd stopped him last time, but not this time. He'd been such a good boy. He hadn't listened to his King in ages. He'd been patient. Sneaky.

_"__Liar. Traitor. Monster."_

With each title whispered in his mind a new line of red swells and bursts, pouring over the pale skin.

_"__Fool. Trickster. Murderer."_

So entranced is he by the red rivulets pooling on the concrete floor that he doesn't notice the blackness encroaching on his vision or the chill invading his limbs.

_"__Demon. Idiot."_

He doesn't hear the alarms or see the flashing lights that invade his room like a circus. He doesn't feel the impact as his head hits the concrete with a wet crack. By the time the door opens admitting a swarm of paramedics and nurses the boy with no name is far far away, floating in a sea of nothingness.

Arthur's voice hisses in his mind's ear. _"Well done Merlin. They're safe now. From you."_

**Ten Years Ago**

"He just appeared on your doorstep? No sign of where he came from? He hasn't said anything?"

The boy in question is little more than a sack of bones. His skin stretches tautly over his ribs and cheekbones. His eyes are overly bright, flicking from social worker to business tycoon as if assessing them as threats.

_Or targets,_ the worker shudders. The boy seems more dead than alive. The silence he'd surrounded himself with since the moment she'd laid eyes on him merely serves to increase her unease. There is some thing unearthly about this child. _"A changeling, left on the full moon, as payment for an unbaptized child."_ Her grandmother's voice echoes through her memory and she shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Don't be ridiculous. she scolds herself. Fairies don't exist. Certainty not half-starved fairies with dead eyes that shudder when she meets them. Certaintly.

Minutes later she bundles him into her car and pulls out of the Pendragon estate. In the back seat the raven boy, the fey child, hardly older than five, stares backwards with glittering eyes. He will return.


	2. My Friend I have Found Him

_"And they burned their sons and their daughters as offerings  
__and used divination and omens  
__and sold themselves to do evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger."_

_-2 Kings 17:17_

_"Arthur."_

The voice slices through his dreams like a sword. Deep in his dreams he calls out in recognition, "Merlin."

_"Arthur."_

The young heir twists anxiously. Something is wrong.

_"Arthur!"_

Clawing his way in to wakefulness, he bats at the shadows surrounding him on all sides. "Wait Merlin! I'm coming!"

"Arthur!"

His eyes snap open scanning the upscale hotel room for threats.

"Arthur! Sire if you aren't ready in fifteen minutes your father will be extremely upset."

He turns sideways, nearly falling off the bed in the process. "Leon?"

"Oh good, you're awake. Here."

Arthur really does fall out of bed this time as he fumbles to catch the suit bag tossed lazily to him from across the room. Landing on his hands and feet he stumbles to his feet and groggily staggers to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later he's surreptitiously straightening his tie as all half a trillion dollars worth of Uther Pendradon stares him down from the back seat of the limo taking them to a meeting of two businesses each worth billions of dollars independently and if, or so his father kept reminding him, someone didn't mess it up were soon to be merged under Pendragon Industries. Arthur yawns.

"Forgive me if you don't seem to fully comprehend the magnitude of consequence you're little late night enterprises could cost us."

Arthur nods respectfully without really listening. He'd been up late into the night searching customs records for a girl of six with black hair and green eyes, only one of several million children worldwide whom went missing each year. He tried to pick children who would be harder to hide, trying to find as many as he could with his own considerable resources. Though his father had cut his allowance down to a pittance in a failed attempt to stop Arthur's so called 'reckless, unnecessary investments', as his father's son he has his own business savvy and even at the young age of seventeen has enough income from stocks and investments around the world to readily fuel his late night passion as long as he sticks to research and leaves the actual rescues to local authorities.

Not that his successful launching of what could accurately be titled a self sustaining charity pleases Father at all. No. Uther never seems to care about the people. For him it is all just a flow of cash and product. Nothing more.

Surreptitiously wiping the last bit of sleep from his eyes, Arthur squares his shoulders and strides confidently into the boardroom. If in nothing else, at least his father will proud of his professional conduct today.

Five hours later, the teenager is seriously weighing the costs and benefits of cracking a joke to lighten the boredom when the two boards finally break for lunch. Grabbing his coat and tablet he gives respectful nods to everyone who catches his eye and heads out for some time on his own. Even if he ends up eating McDonalds or missing lunch entirely it's still worth it for the chance to stretch his legs a bit and do some research on his own.

He has a lead that one of the missing children in his files, a cold case from nearly fifteen years ago, may have ended up in the local metal hospital. Though no one would want their child to end up in one of those he is sure that her parents will be grateful just to see her again. Assuming he can find her at all. Fifteen years is a long time and it is all too possible that the computer software that aged childhood photos had gone just enough off course for his current image of her to be uselessly inaccurate. In any case he's lucky that the merger meeting just so happened to be in the same city as the hospital.

Arriving ten minutes later at his destination he's struck by the gloomy air of the place and it's residents.

"Is it normally like this?"

The secretary at the front desk shakes her head as she prepares his visitors pass. "Oh no. But there was a bit of bad business this morning. One of the residents, well, you know." she trails off but he doesn't get the hint.

"What?"

She looks up at him with sympathy. "He had a long record of self harm. We don't know if he'll make it this time."

His mind blanks for a moment as he absorbs the information and then he reaches out to accept the completed pass. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he recovers."

She shakes her head, troubled. "I'm not always so sure. Not that we should ever take a life on purpose, but, perhaps it would be kinder if he didn't."

As he follows his guide to the records office Arthur mulls over what could possibly make it so that it would be better if someone didn't live. With no answers presenting themselves he tucks the question away and introduces himself to the man leading him.

"I suppose you heard about that bit with Mad Merlin this morning." the man asks cheerfully as he pulls out the requested records. "Course we're not supposed to call him that, specially not to his face but way I figure it he's not here so-"

Arthur barely notices the course attitude of the other man. He is fixated on the name of the patient. "Merlin did you say? That's not a very common name."

The man laughs. "Nah, it's not his real name. He's a John Smith in the books you know, but he always refers to himself as Merlin."

Arthur frowns mildly as he flips through the records related to his own case. "If that's the case why isn't he listed as Merlin?"

Sensing an interested listener the man launches into his gossip. "Cause that's not his name you see. He calls himself Merlin, and never when asked, no he's too crafty for that. Doesn't speak to anyone direct-wise. But he has his little friends, all from Camelot mind you; King Arthur and Knights of the Round Table." he winks. "I'm sure you know those stories."

Without realizing it Arthur has stopped flipping through the pages. Slowly he nods affirmatively. "Yes, I surely do." His contemplative tone carries an undertone of warning that goes blithely unheeded by the clearly thick security man.

"Well he goes about talking to them, spouting crack, and so he's known as Merlin but-"

Arthur sets his file down slowly. "What sort of crack?"

"Mostly talks to that king of his. I've got magic Arthur. I wanted to tell you Arthur. I only ever use it for you, Arthur," he sniggers, " as if King Arthur wouldn't know that Merlin was a magician. Heh. He's crazier than the usual crackpot that's for certain."

The man doesn't notice how still his visitor is until Arthur twitches.

"Sir?" He'd worked on the docks for years before landing this security job. He knows a threat when he sees one and while the young man had seemed perfectly nice upon entering, if a bit formal, the hairs are now rising on the back of his neck. Cautiously he reaches for his taser.

Arthur shakes his head. Calmly he stands up and gestures for the man to do the same. "There'll be no need for that. You're just going to tell me where this 'Merlin' is now and I'll hand this file back to you and we can part ways without any trouble."

The security man nods eagerly. He has no desire to get into a fight he's not sure he can win. "He was taken up to the city hospital. It's only a fifteen minute drive away in good traffic. Here, you can use my car-" he fumbles for his keys then stops as Arthur shakes his head.

"That won't be necessary. I'll take a cab. One more question."

"Anything."

"How old is he?"

The man looks for permission and then turns to grab another file from the stacks. "Here. All his information. I don't know anything more that that."

Arthur takes the file with a nod of thanks and turns to leave. At the hallway door he turns back. "You won't tell anyone I took this right?"

The man nods. "Sure, wouldn't dream of it."

Arthur smiles grimly. "Good." He tucks it into his briefcase. "Oh. And if it could be arranged for this security tape to be… lost, I'm sure there will be something in his file for you when I return it."

Greed lights up in the man's eyes. Hook, line and sinker. Confident that the piggish scoundrel won't say anything now Arthur makes his way out to the lobby, turns in his pass and makes his way back to the conference center.

For the rest of the merger that day and the next, Arthur acts the part of the perfect son, but inside his thoughts are a tempest.

Despite the odds, he may have finally found his other half. Merlin. Emrys. Warlock and Dragonlord. Arthur snorts. Not that there are any dragons left for him to lord over. Surly the white beast of Morgana's hadn't survived the expansions of the the 19th and 20th centuries. Then again, a real dragon would have made all the headlines… Not that it matters just now. The only thing that matters is that Merlin survives.

Just what are the extent of his injuries? The secretary had seemed sure he wouldn't make it. Was she exaggerating? Had he really found his warlock only to lose him again? His chest tightens. He can't do it alone, whatever it is he is supposed to do this time around. Not without Merlin.

And what if Merlin does survive? He obviously hadn't wanted to. Can Arthur keep him from trying again? How will he get Merlin out of Ashwood? Can he convince his father to let Merlin stay with them? No, definitely not. Which means he'll probably need to take his father up on his offer to run one of the smaller branch offices scattered beyond Uther's direct reach from headquarters in London. It will make him happy that his son is 'finally' accepting some responsibility, never mind he still had a year of secondary to complete, and hopefully less inclined to double-check Arthur's every move.

Leon will almost certainly be able accompany him as his internship in the company ends in less than a month in favor of a full-time salaried position, but Morgana would have to remain behind. She'd just been accepted into Oxford, she couldn't just back out. Besides, she and Arthur had made up their differences in their seventeen and nineteen respective years growing up together, but he isn't so sure she'll be ready to face Merlin. They had a lot more history after all and wouldn't have the benefit of being friends before they remembered.

This is all assuming he's the right Merlin, of course. Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Arthur murmurs silently to himself.

But despite his cautions he is already certain of the man's identity. Course and greedy though he was, that security guard had been right. It certainty would be odd for the King not to know the Magician…"Unless the warlock was actually the servant," he mutters.

"What's that boy?"

Startled Arthur snaps out of his thoughts and back into the final board meeting. "Nothing Sir, I apologize for the interruption."

The beefy, soon to be ex-, head of directors for the merging company continues with his closing speech. Uther rises. They shake hands. The deal is done.

**Comments, Critques, etc. all welcome.**


	3. See For Yourself If He Is Who He Is

_"There is no fear in love,_

_ but perfect love casts out fear. _

_For fear has to do with punishment,_

_ and whoever fears has not been perfected in love."_

_- 1 John 4:18_

The sky is blue. It takes him days upon hours of tests to prove it, but he does. Then he shifts his attention to the ground. It appears to be covered in grass. He kneels to pluck a blade for inspection. Hmmm. His initial hypothesis should be correct, but he'll have to run tests to be completely reassured.

At a distance an impassive circle of shadowy figures watches his every move. He ignores them. They can't get to him here. Not while he's dead. Their voices only return when he's not dead, which luckily for him, he is.

He fixes the blade of grass beneath a microscope. A spark of electricity jumps from finger to finger. He freezes.

"No. Nnoo! I won't go back." He spins, quickly assessing his ghosts. They haven't moved but they look brighter, more solid.

"No! They can't make me! You here that morons?" He lifts his face to the sky and screams. "Stop trying to wake me up! I don't want to wake up. You don't really want me to wake up! It'll be better for all of us if I don't wake up! So. Stop. Trying."

He voice carries echoes of power that absorb harmlessly into the padded blue sky. The figures take a collective step forward in unison with a bolt of lightning that races across the clearing striking him dead center in the chest. He collapses instantly.

A lifetime later his heart begins to beat.

**Three Days Later**

Arthur has read everything in Merlin's file and he is furious. Name Unknown. Birthdate Unknown. Age estimate, fifteen years. First admittance, six years old. Stay, two weeks. Final admittance, thirteen. Stay, permeant resident. Included in his medical records were his child services records. Ten years ago John Smith had been picked up from the residence of one Uther Pendragon and taken to the Lady of Mercy Orphanage in Liverpool. It could be no coincidence. His father had owned property in Liverppol until Arthur was seven, ten years ago exactly. Merlin had been there. Somehow, before any of the rest of them had remembered anything more than vivid snatches of scenery, Merlin had remembered enough to try and find him… at five years old. He refuses to talk about it, but Arthur knows that his father remembers Camelot. He must have recognized the child. And he'd turned him away then made sure Merlin wouldn't be able to find them ever again. Sent him to an orphanage where he would spend the next ten years of his life in and out of the looney.

Arthur hisses in frustration. For his plan to work he can't let his father know that he'd found Merlin. He can't let the man who'd tried to have Guinevere transferred to a different school just for attending the same secondary as Arthur catch even of hint of the warlock Uther resents more than anyone besides perhaps the unknown sorceress who'd sparked the great purge all those centuries ago.

Standing in front of the hospital that evening, a mere three days since his clandestine visit to the Ashwood Mental Hospital, he draws his cover story around him like a shield and enters. Dodging through the lobby and up a set of stairs he coughs politely to attract the attention of a idle intern sucking determinedly at a large latte.

"Have you seen Nurse Joy? I was told she was with a patient," he peers at his notebook as if unable to recall the name, "John Smith?"

The intern shrugs. "John Smith is the guy they brought in a few days ago bleeding all over. He's on the third floor. Don't know anything about a Nurse Joy though. Sure you're looking for the right person?"

Arthur thanks them and hurries away. This plan involves getting Merlin out of the hospital unnoticed. Uther had already returned to London. Gwaine had driven down from Leeds to act as the getaway man. Now all they need was a bit of luck. Namely, Merlin really needs to be conscious.

Stepping out onto the third floor Arthur notices how much quieter it is up here. Suddenly he's glad for the blue scrubs he snatched from a closet on the way up. It doesn't look like this floor is open to visitors, ever.

A quarter of the way down the hall he finds the door labeled "John Smith" and his breath hitches in his throat. This is it. He turns the handle, steps in, closes the shade and locks the door.

**Three Days Earlier**

The world of the living swims into focus like a bad dream. The expected electro shock pads hover over his chest in the hands of a masked doctor. He blinks and then coughs violently as his lungs reject the oxygen rich air his very own mask is feeding him.

"He's awake. Blood pressure is on the rise."

"Looks like he's stable."

The clinical jabber fades into background noise as he slips back into the comfortable limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. He doesn't wan't to be here. Arthur had promised. He _had_ been waiting for him, right? Suddenly he can't remember.

**OoO**

"All right kiddo, these are only for your own safety." A painful tug at his wrists spurs him to open his eyes once more. An orderly is strapping him down to the bed. He watches dispassionately through slitted eyes and then drifts away again. What good would it do to escape? He couldn't get very far. Not far enough to die before they found him and brought him back. Escaping is pointless.

Merlin sleeps.

**OoO**

When he finally drifts into consciousness again the world is too bright. In his attempt to avoid the light something clatters lightly against a countertop. Seconds later the light lessons as a shadowy silhouette takes it's place.

"John? Can you hear me?"

Her voice comes as if from far away and for a long moment he seriously considers ignoring her. Surely if he does he'll be allowed to go back to sleep.

"I need you to wake up now John. Here Robert, help me lift him upright."

The shadow narrows as the person turns away. Light creeps back across his eyelids but before he can do anything about it two sets of hands grab him gently and pull him into a sitting position. Immediately his head begins spinning. The world blackens.

"John! Stay with us John."

There's something wrong with that statement and he allows his curiosity to pull him back from the brink of sleep once more.

"Open your eyes please John. I need to check your dilation."

John. That's what was wrong. Slowly he opens his mouth. "It's not John," he tries to say but his throat is as dry as the perilous lands and even his broken whisper sends him into a hacking rasp.

"Here. I have some water for you."

Eagerly he turns his head towards her voice and is rewarded by the touch of a thin rim of plastic against his lips.

"That's it. Take it slowly."

When his throat feels lubricated enough to speak he tries again. "It's not John."

"What's not luv?"

"My name."

The second pair of hands murmurs something at the edge of his hearing. The soft voice murmurs something back and then returns to him.

"Of course not. Can you tell us who you are?"

Her voice is soft and gentle with no undertones of malice or deceit but he still freezes at the familiar words. He can't tell them. If he tells them he's forced to take pills and potions until he can hardly remember Arthur much less his name.

"Just... Not John." That'll have to be enough. He's not a no-one. He's not.

The voice smiles at him. "Allright. Can you open your eyes for me?"

It takes a colossal effort but she's been so patient that he feels honor bound to at least make an effort. At first everything is simply too much light, so much that he cries out from the pain of it and shuts his eyes immediately. Slowly he cracks them open again. Finally a creamy blur surrounded by pale blue comes into focus. The woman smiles.

"Hello there. I'm Meredith. How are you feeling?"

He takes a moment to seriously ponder his answer. His entire body aches as if he'd trained all morning with the knights and then gone out to route a forest full of bandits for some light exercise. His arms in particular feel as heavy as lead and oddly numb. Oh. Right. He'd done that to himself and they, this must be the hospital on 6th Street, probably have him pumped full of medication for the pain. They needn't have bothered. He'd worked through worse when he was a servant and couldn't let on that he had been injured.

"Luv? You still with us?"

He focus' with a start. Meredith watches him with concern. His eyes flicker to the other side of his bed. A broad shouldered young man, that must be Robert, also watches him, but his eyes are filled with pity and disgust. He wonders why, remembers and turns back to Meredith. If this Robert had been lived through half of what he had he would look at him differently.

"Sore. Tired."

Meredith nods. "Can you feel this?" She squeezes his palms and then repeats the process with each finger individually checking for nerve damage he's sure. Not that he'd been that stupid. On the off chance that they did manage to bring him back he'd wanted no damage that would hinder his ability to serve Arthur; to try again.

Sometime later the world tilts as he's gently lowered back down into a horizontal position. Gentle hands run their way over his arms, carefully unwinding the bandages. He tries to force his eyes open once more; he wants to see for himself. But the effort is too much and he quickly flees into his dreams as the first stings of antiseptic register in his brain.

**The Next Evening**

The man, kid really, before him is so quintessentially Merlin and so painfully not that the twisted paradox roots Arthur in place for several long minutes before he digs up the will to move again. By inches he creeps forward. The high cheekbones, messy black hair, pale skin, everything that would have identified Merlin on a milk carton are exactly the same. Maybe his skin is a shade paler, it may be that his hair is a trifle shorter, it doesn't matter.

The things that do matter leap out like daggers to catch him. The heavily bandaged arms, from the wrist to past the elbow. What had he done to himself? Why? What had happened to Merlin in his sixteen or so years back on earth to warrant this? He'd kept a greater secret, after all, last time.

A low moan grabs his attention. Merlin. Arthur rushes the rest of the way to the bedside. Troubled blue eyes blink wearily at him, widen, and then squeeze shut again.

Arthur reaches out a hand, "Merlin…"

His eyes stay shut but that may be just as well for when he opens his mouth Arthur feels for the second time that night as if he's been punched in the gut.

"I'm sorry Arthur. I really tried. I did everything just like you told me too." he gestures with a minute sweep of his head to the bandages swaddling his arms. "You can check if you don't believe me. But I wasn't fast enough. They brought me back. I told you they might. They think they're helping."

Arthur gapes. His knuckles turn white where they clutch the sideboard. Does Merlin think he wants him dead? That somehow he'd ordered the warlock to go about slicing himself up for mincemeat?

When Arthur finally finds his voice the words drop out of him like rocks, undeniable and unavoidable in their immobility. "Dear God Merlin, you really are mad."

Merlin cocks his head and opens his eyes to gaze serenely at him. "Not really. I know your not real, not like before, but," here he pauses as if trying to make up his mind exactly which of his many thoughts to get out first, "isn't it better to follow a ghost of my King than lose him entirely?"

Arthur hisses in fear. "Not when he's telling you to off yourself!"

Merlin laughs, the chuckles escaping like sharp barks from his still aching throat. "That's funny coming from you." It takes a moment for Arthur to decipher the joke. Oh. Merlin thinks he's a figment of imagination. The same figment that had convinced Merlin to try-

"You've never been this solid before. I wonder if that means I've done something right or wrong?"

The idle question and the abrupt change in Merlin's composure convince Arthur to try again.

"Hey Merlin." He calls softly until Merlin's eyes are one again focused on his own. "You want me to tell you why I'm solid this time?"

Merlin shrugs as well as he's able. "Whatever you want Arthur."

Arthur grimaces. They'll have to do something about Merlin's blind obedience but for now he can use it to his advantage to get Merlin out of here without too much fuss, he hopes.

"It's because I'm real this time, Merlin. I'm back."

Merlin laughs softly as if at a joke and this time the laughter seems almost real. "You've never said that before."

"Then you should know it's true."

Arthur fumbles at the straps holding Merlin to the bed. "Listen Merlin. I'm going to get you out of here, but I need you to do exactly what I say."

Merlin goes rigid when Arthur touches his hand and for a moment Arthur is afraid he's upset the IV needle and his friend is going into shock, but no. Merlin merely twists his hand in order to latch onto Arthur's own. From then on he doesn't say another word, doesn't even open his eyes, but he refuses to let go of his liege so Arthur simply works around him and once in a while gives him a reassuring squeeze in return.

Finally his phone buzzes. Gwaine is in position. It's time. Merlin is still too weak from blood loss to actually do much of the walking himself, but with Arthur supporting him they manage to hobble down the hallway, down the stairs and out a side door, all without a single witness. By the time they reach the van, Merlin is asleep again.

Gwaine pokes his head out. "Is it really him?"

Arthur grunts. "Here, help me lift him. See for yourself."

The teen watches in satisfaction as his knight takes in their mutual friend with awe and delight.

"It's really you, Merlin." Gwaine's laughter rumbles inside his chest like a deep purr. "Man we have some catching up to do don't we?"

Arthur chuckles softly and some of weight in his chest lifts. It really is him, isn't it. Their Merlin. The one and only.

Hopping in the back, Arthur slides himself under Merlin's head and nods when he's ready. Gwaine nods back, all grin, and hits the gas.

By the time the night nurse realizes one of their patients is missing the trio is long gone.

**OoO**

Merlin is surprised to see Arthur so soon. Normally, this soon after they'd brought him back, he's still on drugs that stop the visions. Not the voices. They never leave him so easily. But the fact that Arthur is visibly standing at his bedside is definitely cause for surprise.

"I'm real this time, Merlin. I'm back."

He doesn't really believe it. Arthur would never lie to him but then real is relative. Who knows what Arthur really means by that.

He laughs at his rationalization of a hallucination but when Arthur actually touches him, it's suddenly no longer funny. Not once, not once in all the years since he'd given up had any of his ghosts been able to touch him. Not once.

He savors the realness of Arthur's skin against his own, nearly oblivious to when Arthur finally lifts him upright and half carries him out of the hospital and out of his latest life. All that matters is that Arthur is here, and for the first time since Camelot Merlin dares to believe that Arthur might really be back. Just maybe.

He doesn't know where Arthur is taking him but it doesn't matter. He'll follow. Eyes closed he leans into his King's sturdy frame, unable to stay awake any longer.

For the first time in ten years Merlin sleeps without nightmares and when he wakes, though he doesn't know it yet, Arthur will be there to greet him.

**Comments, critiques, suggestions, all welcome!**


	4. Be it Dream or Prophecy?

_Where there is no prophetic vision_

_ the people cast off restraint, _

_but blessed is he who keeps the law._

_- Proverbs 29:18_

The familiar warmth of a scratchy blanket and stiff mattress rouses him out his slumber with no memory of the intervening years.

"Gaius? Am I late?"

Without opening his eyes he stretches stiffly and frowns at the tightness in his arms. He doesn't remember being injured recently.

Someone moves quietly around the room and Merlin lies still to listen to their patter, unwilling to get up and face the morning just yet.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes snap open. "Arthur? What are you-" He takes in his surroundings from the cheap sheets covering his body to the TV set in the corner playing the fore-heard music and snaps them shut again. "You're not really here are you? It was just a dream."

He feels it as Arthur draws closer to him and settles on the bed at his side. "What was a dream Merlin?"

His voice is soft and caring in a way Merlin doesn't think he's ever imagined before. Wasn't Arthur supposed to be mad at him? Dreamily he rolls to turn on his side, hoping to recapture the hazy moments where he'd still been in Camelot and his world hadn't fallen apart yet. A pair of hands gently but firmly rolls him back.

"You've got to keep the circulation up in your arms. That means no sleeping on your side."

Merlin peers out from under his lashes and briefly scans the room for whomever had touched him but sees no one but Arthur. He sighs wearily. So much for that. Who'd brought him here anyways, and where are they? And why wasn't he on meds? His eyes flick toward the hallucination of his King and close again in denial. "I suppose I have to get up now?"

"No. Just rest. I've decided to give you the day off." There is laughter in Arthur's voice and it takes a moment for Merlin to process that he's made a joke. The Arthur in his head never makes jokes. He opens his eyes and looks.

This Arthur is paler than he remembers by several shades though he still sports a tan much darker than Merlin's own skin. He doesn't have the muscles of a knight in constant training either. Merlin had never pictured him this way, with his wavy blond hair shaved close to his head and dressed in clothing of the, what century was it again?, the twenty-first century rather than the fifth. Everything adds up to a conclusion he can't help but denounce. He can't be real. He can't. Not after all this time. Not after everything.

"You're not really real Arthur." His eyes fly open suddenly worried that his King might take offense. Part of him ridicules himself for not making up his mind._ Either he's not real and he can't take offense or he's real and he can. _He ignores the logic. He's magic. Since when had things been logical? "I'll still do anything for you. I don't care if you're not real, but, but you're not, right? Promise me?"

**OoO**

"Promise me you're not real?"

Arthur grimaces. When Merlin had first woken calling for Gaius as if they were back in Camelot Arthur had been tempted, only for moment, but tempted to play the charade for as long as he could until Merlin had opened his eyes and remembered and the world seemed darker again.

"Of course I'm real." He mumbles. "Why shouldn't I be?"

Merlin shrugs carelessly. "It's just that you haven't been, that's all. I didn't see you at first of course. That only came later. But ever since you died, you've never been real. Why would you be this time?"

Arthur struggles to wade through his friend's broken explanations. "It's only been fifteen years Merlin. You've only been here fifteen years this time. What happened?"

Merlin frowns as if trying to calculate something. "No. That's not quite right. It's only been ten years this time. Before that it was five and before that it was twenty. That was a good time. Everyone was doing stuff so I wasn't crazier than anyone else."

Arthur clutches his hair in frustration. Merlin had always been a tad mad, no one who wasn't would have done half the things he'd done without a second thought, but it had always been a friendly sort of madness, a cheerful, 'always have your back', kind of madness. This. He doesn't know what to do with this. With a Merlin who's madness threatens to harm him at every turn.

Merlin squints sideways at the lone thumbnail sticking out of the bandages and attacks it viciously with his teeth.

"Stop that Merlin." Arthur reaches to nudge away the damaged limb but Merlin's already dropped it. Right. He has total control over the boy now. All he has to do is say the word and Merlin will go to the ends of the earth to fulfill it. Somehow the idea of Merlin doing what he's told for once doesn't make Arthur feel any better. Just the opposite. He feels sick at the thought that of the cheeky, insolent person he knew being so broken.

When he looks up again, Merlin has drifted off. Arthur tucks him in more firmly and then takes the opportunity to step into the adjoining hotel room.

"How's progress?"

Gwaine looks up from his computer. "Progressing. The hotel feed is already looped with our prerecorded footage. Now if I can only…"

He trails off as numerous pop-ups appear and he leans in closer to read the fine print in the new programing screens. Arthur leaves him to it. Trust Gwaine to be a skilled troublemaker no matter what era he occupies. In the time of myths that meant skilled swordsmanship and a silver tongue. In this day and age the silver tongue is just as smooth but weaponry has been abandoned for technology.

'If you need a gun now a days you're not good enough' or so Gwaine had told him once, ' if your using brawn you're either horribly inefficient and likely to get arrested or are working much too high up in politics for my tastes'.

As much as Arthur sometimes wishes for the simplicity of the old days when a dozen skilled warriors could keep the peace just fine thank you, he has to agree. A single man armed with a bomb made in his garage and no training whatsoever can take out as many civilians today as a small army then. Times have changed.

"I'm going to get some coffee, need anything?"

Gwaine grunts in negative so Arthur lets himself out and heads downstairs. For a minute he dithers over taking the car to get something decent and then remembers Merlin. He can't be left alone for long and Gwaine is too preoccupied with other matters to babysit. Lobby coffee it is.

"Did you hear about the breakout?"

Arthur idly attunes his ears to the conversation as he fills his cup and grabs a creamer.

"What about it?"

"Well they're saying a mental patient broke out of the hospital. No one knows how he did it or where he went."

Casually Arthur pours in the creamer and stirs it gently.

"Any leads?"

He perks his ears.

"Not that they've let the news hear about. Got a picture of him up though."

"Yeah, I saw that. Freaky looking bloke, aye?"

Arthur's heard enough. He passes on the news to Gwaine and then returns to Merlin's room.

He looks so peaceful sleeping there as if he'd simply had an exhausting day and nothing more than a good night's rest would have him up and about as usual.

_"Promise me you're not real?"_ The remembered plea shatters the illusion. Tousling the messy black hair one last time Arthur settles back in his armchair. Merlin will be ok again if Arthur has to drag him there himself. There's nothing to cry about. He'll fix it.

**OoO**

When Merlin next opens his eyes the sight of Arthur quietly reading next to him nudges his subconscious just a little further in favor of accepting the man's presence. He'd never seen Arthur willingly read a book before without the utmost reluctance, certainly not as a hallucination. Burrowing back into his blankets he allows the muted banging of pipes somewhere in the building, the hiss of a shower next door, and the dry rasp of the page on page as Arthur makes his way through the paperback to lull him into complacency. Nobody's asking him to do anything. Nobody's injecting him with anything or rolling him down the hallway for shock treatment. All he has to do is nothing.

_It's a festival day. Garlands hand on every surface, one corner of the training grounds have been given over to a large maypole and smiles are plentiful.. Servants weave skillfully down the crowded hallways with all manner of trays, bundles and decorations. Laughter hangs over everything like a heavy incense. Merlin watches it all with a contented smile. Everything is going perfectly. Even Arthur won't find fault with this year's celebration._

The TV flickers and reverts to static. Frowning Arthur turns another page, then another before finally reaching for the remote and waving it irritatedly at the set. The screen flickers and for a moment it appears to be working as the picture flickers back on. Suddenly the channels whir upwards coming to a stop on what appears to be a music channel. A fife picks up and a singer becomes audible.

"The squire serves the gentleman and the gentleman follows me/ and in so doing learns the ways of skill and courtesy/ We ever serve the household with our hands and hearts and knees/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King/ For the King!/ The Rose and Lion stand and serve the King"

The lyrics have altered with the language but the tune is eerily familiar, a festive tune he vividly remembers as a favorite at many a banquet. Try as he might the channel refuses to change and the info and menu buttons give up only the name of the station, IEEE 754. Returning to his book in disgust when he finds he can't even turn the dang thing off he doesn't notice the soft glow seeping out from under his warlock's eyelids.

_"We serve as those before us and we teach it to our young/ and fair the blooms that face the sky that from our soil have sprung/ and oft our deeds are roared aloud when honor's praised and sung/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King/ For the King!/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King"_

_The familiar tune is struck up by a lone bard who is soon joined by several other musicians and singers. Couples pair up under the spontaneous music and soon the entire courtyard is awhirl with skirts and stomping boots. Merlin's eyes widen in surprise as two smooth hands drag him from his hiding place into the thick of it. The next minutes are a blur of breathless laughter as he and Gwen twirl in, around and through the other couples until the music stops and they collapse on one of the many benches set up for the occasion. Morgana comes up from behind and joins them in surveying the happy crowd. Merlin smiles up at her in welcome._

By the time Gwaine pokes his head in to ask what Arthur is up to the channel has gone through several reincarnations of songs they had first known in Camelot.

"Any ideas?"

Gwaine shakes his head. "It's like nothing I've ever seen. Almost like-" His spins towards the sole occupied bed realization dawning, "magic."

Arthur also switches his attention over to the sleeping warlock. "You don't think?"

The knight shrugs. "Who else would be able to do that?" He asks, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder to the set now playing a song he'd sung himself on many an occasion.

"I saw the mouse chase the cat/ Fie man fie!/ I saw the mouse chase the cat/ Who's the fool now?/ I saw the mouse chase the cat then the cheese ate the rat/ Thou hast well drunken man whose the fool now!"

Arthur nods slowly as he peers more closely at their sleeping friend. Merlin's eyes… Reaching out he lifts an eyelid and gasps. The pupil is a bright gold he's only seen in one context, spellcasting.

Letting go he moves to shake Merlin awake when Gwaine shoos him away. "Let him sleep!"

Arthur frowns. "And what happens when someone notices that?" motioning to the TV.

"Who's going to notice? Noone but us is going to try to use the remote and how will anyone who hears the music know it's magical? By it's obvious antiqueness? You were playing something similar before Merlin took over."

Groaning Arthur throws his hands up in defeat. "All right, but you get to do the sweet-talking if it's not fixed by the time we leave."

**OoO**

Sometime later the static returns. Merlin tosses, throwing the covers off with a wild sweep of his hands.

_The maypole stands in gay contrast to the looming storm and blackened cobblestones. Merlin stares in horror at row after row of bodies laid out in ceremonial fashion under the open sky. Shuddering he steps forward. The first face looms up at him. Will._

_He turns away. Balinor. turns. Lancelot. turns. Eylan. Daegel. Gwaine. Morgana. Percival. Gaius. Guinevere. Leon. Kay. Bedivere. Arthur._

_He gasps, stricken. Locked in death Arthur's face is twisted with agony._

_"No."_

_It didn't happen this way. He knows it didn't. In his last moments Arthur had smiled at him. Right?_

_"Does it matter if this is real?"_

_The voice sounds silently in his head, twisting through his mind like black snakes._

_"After all, they all died. That's true enough. They all left you."_

_"Shut up Mordred."_

_"Why should I? I'm there too you know. Everyone whom ever hurt you. Everyone you ever cared about. I'm touched honestly."_

_"Shut _up_ Mordred."_

_"Aw. Don't be like Merlin. I'm only trying to make conversation. Or do you not like bringing up old failures?"_

_"Arthur will rise again. Everyone will. The circle is not yet complete."_

_"Well in that case I suppose I will see you again. Won't that be nice? Maybe I can stab Arthur in the back for old times sake-"_

_"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!"_

_The courtyard begins to shake. Mansonry crashes down all around him, mutilating bodies and rising a cloud of dust. Lightening strikes. A drop of rain splatters across Merlin's face and then a sheet of water drops from the sky. Amidst it all the Maypoles ribbons flutter brightly._

Thunder booms in his mind and Merlin sits straight up in bed nearly knocking heads with a worried Arthur who jumps backwards just in time.

"Merlin! What's wrong?"

**OoO**

When Merlin throws his blankets clear off the bed into Arthur's lap and the music simultaneously devolves into static Arthur immediately puts the book aside to lay a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"It's ok Merlin. You're ok. _I'm_ ok."

"Shut up Mordred."

Taken aback, Arthur tries to formulate a response. Before he can Merlin repeats with an even more vehement, "Shut _up_ Mordred."

Catching on, Arthur shakes the sleeping boy softly trying to wake him from the nightmare.

"Arthur will rise again. Everyone will. The circle is not yet complete."

The angry hope in his friend's voice spurs Arthur to shake him even harder. "C'mon Merlin! Wake up! I'm right here. Not sometime in the future. Right now. All you have to do is open your eyes."

"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!"

Arthur flinches as the furniture beings to rattle and the TV flickers back on, showing an old horror flick with a woman screaming shrilly in utter silence.

"Merlin!"

Scared now that they really will be fond out and Merlin drug back to the loony Arthur leans over to order the younger boy to snap out of it right now. Before he can get in the first word Merlin startles upright and Arthur shies away. The door slams open revealing a harried Gwaine who takes one look at the mess and asks in the voice he used in his past life for soothing crazed horses,

"Merlin! What's wrong?"

**All Feedback and other comments welcome and appreciated.**


	5. You who are Strength Recover Me

**Next Chapter. Enjoy!**

_Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble__,_

_ and he saved them from their distress. _

_He sent forth his word and healed them; _

_he rescued them from the grave. _

_- Psalm 107:19-20 _

The room stills instantly. The TV turns itself off with a bright snap, the furniture drops to the floor and Merlin gapes wordlessly for a long moment before gasping, "Gwaine? Is that really you?"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Sure. It's not to much to believe that Gwaine is real. Arthur? No, never. But Gwaine? Oh, yes it's perfectly acceptable for him to come back from the dead."

Merlin doesn't respond. His entire being remains fixated on Gwaine as the knight slowly approaches and kneels at the bedside.

"Yeah, Merlin. It's me. Been a while huh?"

Merlin laughs wildly. "A while? Where's the fire and brimstone? What could possibly require the King to return Now! after all these years!" Tears run unnoticed down his cheeks as he turns towards Arthur. "Is he real too?"

Gwaine snorts. "The Princess? As much as we don't want him to be, yes." He locks eyes with Merlin and nods slowly and emphatically. "Arthur's real too Merlin."

"But, but-" Viciously he turns again pinning Arthur with a fearful stare. "What was the last thing you said to me before I woke up in the hospital? Tell me!"

Arthur shakes his head. "I hadn't met you in this life before the hospital. The first I knew of your whereabouts was the afternoon after you were admitted."

"You're not lying to me?"

Arthur's first reaction is to swear that he'd never lie to him. The ill-advised wording of that response, truthful as it may be, strikes him before he can get the words out and instead he murmurs, "I'm not. I swear on Excalibar, I'm not."

Merlin nods fretfully. Muttering to himself he seems to take no further notice of his two friends until Arthur once again asks, "But why Gwaine and not me?"

Merlin raises his head and shrugs. "I never saw Gwaine. Never in fifteen thousand years."

Arthur's head snaps around. The hints line up in his brain. _"You've never been real. Not since you died." - "It's only been ten years this time. Last time it was five and before that 20." - "I was no more crazy than anyone else then" - "Never in fifteen thousand years."_

Slowly he reaches for Merlin's hand and then pauses seeking out Merlin's eyes for permission. Merlin doesn't say a word but his eyes are locked on Arthur's and he doesn't protest as Arthur slips the cold fingers into his own and squeezes them for reassurance.

"Merlin?"

The warlock tilts his head.

"You didn't wake up like the rest of us did you?"

Merlin frowns slightly and then shakes his head.

Arthur's voice hitches in his throat at the unwelcome, unimaginable conclusion. "You never left. You've been here. All this time. All those centuries."

Gwaine turns from one to the other and back looking for an explanation. Neither speaks. Warlock and King lock eyes reading each other back and forth.

I was waiting for you.

I searched everywhere.

Do you forgive me?

For everything.

Merlin's fingers tighten weakly around Arthur's own.

I'm not letting go again.

You won't have to.

I don't believe you.

You will.

Arthur's almost given up on a reply when Merlin whispers back, "No. I never really left. Not really."

**OoO **

The whole day has been a whirl of surprise and so much joy and laughter that his heart aches with it all. Arthur is alive. Arthur is here. Arthur is here and alive and doesn't hate him and doesn't want him to die and, and. And Gwaine. Gwaine is here too. And so are the others; Percival and Elyan and Lancelot and Guinevere. Uther too. That's not so good. He wonders if Morgana and Morded, Nimue perhaps or Morgouse, are they back too? He pushes the worry out of his thoughts. If they are he'll deal with them later. Right now he needs to get better. Arthur had said so. Had he mentioned that Arthur wants him here? Arthur wants him here, not as a tool but as a friend. He'd sworn that he would do anything for Arthur and all Arthur asked of him was to get better. How is that possible?

Arthur has returned. His thoughts run around in giddy circles as he watches his two friends swiftly pack and stow their duffle bags full of clothing, medical supplies, and Gwaine's equipment in the SUV Gwaine had rented for the purpose of this trip. One of those bags is his. It's mostly empty for now. Gwaine had gone out and bought jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt upon Arthur's request but he's wearing those now. The only items his bag are the hospital nightdress and a burn phone that he's not entirely sure he knows how to use. In the ten years since he'd last changed his identity he'd been mostly cloistered away from the world. He's more familiar than he ever wanted to be with the most up to date practices in psychiatric treatment but beyond that everything is a bit of mystery, mostly familiar yet none to strange and new at the same time. He wonders when and why everything had started speeding up. He used to be able to retreat into isolation for fifty years and return to find the same villages and occupants going about life the way their ancestors had done since times unknown.

He peers out from beneath his hoody at the grimy hotel they'd occupied for the last day and night while Merlin regain enough of his strength to pull off normal. Apparently Gwaine and Arthur had dragged him into the place declaring that their companion had gone and drunken himself into oblivion. That wouldn't have worked so well a second time. When he'd asked where they were headed Arthur had told him that it depended on the phone call he was about to make. To Uther. He hadn't been able to ask again after the call as Arthur had hung up extremely irritated and in no mood to elucidate things. Gwaine had shrugged sympathetically and told him it was the Princess' show.

Speaking of Princesses. Merlin sighs in almost frantic relief as Arthur and Gwaine emerge from the lobby, throw the last sack in the back and then hop in. Upon Merlin's insistence Gwaine had taken the wheel so that Arthur could sit in the back with him. Leaning his head upon his liege's arm Merlin closes his eyes in preparation for another nap.

"Not yet Merlin."

Arthur elbows him. It's gentle enough for Merlin to consider ignoring it save for the fact that every time Arthur's arm moves it jolts Merlin's head.

"What do you want Arthur? I'm tired!"

Arthur chuckles darkly. "Well that's your own fault. I've got a few more questions."

Merlin buries his head in his hood to avoid meeting Arthur's eyes. What he'd done had seemed so reasonable at the time and he'd never imagined Arthur would disapprove. After all, Arthur had told him he'd be waiting right? But apparently hallucination Arthur and real Arthur had very different ideas about what is ok and what is not. And real Arthur is very much angry at Merlin for trying what he had and very much relieved that it hadn't worked. That had led to a series of very painful questions for the both of them. But in the end it boils down to, what Arthur wants, Merlin will not refuse.

"What?"

Arthur drapes an arm around his shoulders and allows Merlin to rest against him again. "I read your file from Ashwood."

Merlin stiffens and then nods. Of course he would have. Arthur, it seems, would have done anything to get Merlin back, something Merlin doesn't quite understand but none the less can do nothing about.

"It said you were picked up as a five year old from the doorstep of one Uther Pendragon… my father."

Merlin relaxes. This is a much better conversation than what he'd done to his arms and why.

"I saw the name Pendragon and knew I had to investigate. I thought a kid would be in less trouble for breaking and entering than the twenty something I was at the time. But I didn't recognize anything. Uther was too young. I was going to come back after I was taken away but I-"

"Yes?"

Merlin bows his head. How is it that all conversations circle back to the one he doesn't want to have? "I started hallucinating again. It comes and goes. Sometimes I go years without one. I think becoming a child was a bad idea. To much emotion. They slipped out."

"Thank you for telling me."

Arthur buries his fingers in Merlin's hair, stroking the younger boy's head and shoulders until Merlin drifts off to sleep, a small smile of contentment just visible in the quirk of his lips. Gwaine looks back in the mirror and Arthur smiles at him. Everything's really going to be ok.

**OoO**

"I can't pretend to know how you feel/ But know that I'm here/ know that I'm real/ Say what you want/ or don't talk at all/ I'm not going to let you fall"

Merlin spends the most of the trip from Liverpool to Bristol sleeping or incredulously absorbing every detail of the two people who'd reentered his life so long after he'd given up all hope. Occasionally Arthur asks him questions. Mostly he just takes every opportunity to reassure Merlin. I'm here. I'm real. I'm not going anywhere without you. Later, years and years later when the hurts have faded and everything's perfect again they may tease each other; about Merlin's neediness; about Arthur's tenderness, but both know that for now such banter will have to wait. As much as Merlin is almost childlike in his refusal to leave Arthur's side, his need is echoed in Arthur's refusal to let Gwaine take Merlin back to Leeds where he would be both hidden from Uther and under the care of someone who knows a lot more about hiding from the law than an all star high school business wiz. And as much as Arthur is almost unrecognizable as the same person in his tenderness towards his long lost friend, his softness is equaled by the gentle skill with which Merlin alludes to his attempted suicide, hallucinations and other hurts so as to not bring Arthur's guilt and anger to the forefront.

"Lean on me/ when you're not strong/ and I'll be your friend/ I'll help you carry on/ for it won't be long/ till I'm going to need/ somebody to lean on"

Gwaine is in there too. When Arthur leaves them waiting in the car, Gwaine is there to hold Merlin in place and promise that Arthur will come back. When Merlin's clingyness finally sends Arthur over the edge of patience Gwaine is there to take the heat and remind Arthur not to let loose in front of Merlin.

"Hold on to me as we go/ as we roll down this unfamiliar road/ and though this wave is stringing us along/ just know you're not alone/ I'm going to make this place your home"

At one point, after Gwaine's radio station again switches midsong to a sappy pop song, Arthur asks the question both knights have been dying to ask for the past two days. "What's with your magic?"

Merlin, despite knowing Arthur knows, and despite knowing that Arthur had already forgiven him, proceeds to freak out, trembling uncontrollably as he shoves Arthur away for the first time since he'd first laid eyes on him again. Arthur simply watches him with concern until it becomes clear that Merlin isn't going to calm down on his own and then guides Merlin through remembering how to breath. For a while after that Merlin can't look at either of them for the embarrassment but eventually they get their answer. "I can't control it very well. My magic, I mean. It's, it's very touchy around electronics. Or vica verca. I'm not really sure. But it has something to do with the batteries and the circuits. Magic can be used to power them just as well as electricity can. So if I'm not concentrating things like that tend to happen around me. Sorry Gwaine"

Gwaine shrugs. "No problem mate. Who wouldn't want to be able to find any song they wanted just by thinking about it? Do have a question for you though. Is the lovely arrangement today purely at random?" He grins wickedly. "Or have your emotions played a significant part?"

Merlin's expression of horrified amusement is admission enough and leaves Gwaine on a high for over an hour all because he'd been able to make Merlin smile like that; like he used to in Camelot when he drug Gwaine back from the tavern at some ungodly hour of the morning laughing at Gwaine's wildly drunken storytelling; like nothing had changed and everything was going to be ok.

"When life leaves you high and dry/ I'll be at your door tonight/ If you need help, If you need help/ I'll shut down the city lights/ I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe/ to make you well, to make you well"

On account of driving first up to Leeds to drop the rental off (Gwaine had simply 'borrowed it' and left cash in payment so as to be untraceable) and to let Gwaine give his boss notice that he would be gone for longer than he'd planned before heading south, it is approaching dusk by the time they pull into Bristol. Merlin is almost dead asleep. Gwaine has checked them in and brought in nearly all of their luggage before Arthur can wake Merlin enough for him to drag his way inside and collapse on the nearest bed.

And if Arthur falls asleep on the pullout couch listening to alarm clock/radio play lullabies he doesn't mind in the slightest.

**Comments, questions, concerns? Please ask!**


	6. What He Shall Ask I Shall Exceute

All my enemies whisper together against me;  
they imagine the worst for me, saying,  
8 "A vile disease has afflicted him;  
he will never get up from the place where he lies."  
9 Even my close friend,  
someone I trusted,  
one who shared my bread,  
has turned[b] against me.

- Psalm 41:7-9

When Merlin wakes the next morning it is with a particular feeling of warmth. Turning on his side he reaches out for whatever or whomever is causing it only to grasp empty air. Bleerily he considers his options and sits up. The world spins slightly but he doesn't faint and, reassured, he proceeds to assess his location.

He's lying on a bed with a less than comfortable mattress given today's standards. He seems to be surrounded by pillows, cushioning him on all sides. They're what had probably made it so comfortably warm. His own body heat would have stayed contained throughout the night like an igloo of feathers. Next to his bed is a short nightstand with a clock/radio on it and a lamp. Across from that is another bed with the tousled hair of the sleeper poking out from the blankets. Oddly enough the person, he's assuming it's a man, doesn't have a pillow of his own. Had they all been given to him? At the foot of the other bed is a third; a pull out with a second man collapsed spread eagle across it, fast asleep.

A sudden beeping fills the air sending Merlin's heart racing until he realizes that it's the alarm. The dark haired man groans and slaps blindly at it until Merlin decides to help him out. With a touch of his magic he nudges the alarm within arms reach. Slap! The alarm cuts off mid beep and the other man finally drags himself upright.

lt's Gwaine.

His memories of the past two days rush back into place as their eyes meet and Gwaine grins cheerily.

"Merlin! You're awake!"

Merlin smiles back giddily. They're back. Everyone's back. He turns his attention back to the second man. Arthur's back.

"Oi! Princess! It's time to get up!" Arthur twitches and goes still again as if hoping they won't notice. Gwaine gestures. "Care to do the honors?" Merlin smiles softly. How could everything just go back to the way it was? It's like nothing had changed. As if they were all friends and it hadn't been fifteen hundred years waiting as he slowly forgot why he was waiting and why any of it mattered.

"Merlin?"

He starts at the sound of Arthur's voice. "Wha!? You were asleep!" he argues feebly when his eyes refocus on his King's face not twelve inches from his own.

"You've been sitting here for about ten minutes. I got up."

"Oh."

Adverting his eyes to avoid seeing the worry in Arthur's expression he soundlessly allows them to help him up but struggles when Arthur reaches for his shirt.

"I can do it myself. Unlike some people I'm fully capable of dressing myself." The familiar barb brings a smile to Arthur's face but he doesn't relent.

"At least let me help with your shirt. I don't want your- your wounds to reopen."

"But-"

Arthur catches his eye. "Merlin, I want to help you."

With that Merlin gives in and, when just raising his arms to allow Arthur to peel the old shirt off inside out causes him to cry out, he decides it was probably a good idea. Still he insists on doing the rest himself. How is he going to be of any use to Arthur if he keeps requiring his help?

**OoO**

On Arthur's part his only irritation is that Merlin won't let him help him more. There is no shame in needing help. It had taken him a long time to learn that lesson, a lesson he'd learnt in large part through the very man who now refuses to heed it.

Gwaine has already thrown on some clothes of his own and quickly declares that he'll bring up breakfast for the others before heading out leaving Arthur and Merlin alone.

Merlin's staring at him again but Arthur pretends to ignore it. It's scary how Merlin watches them as if they might disappear at any moment. It's scary to watch Merlin's eyes in those moments when he can see the pain and years he'd suffered through as an almost tangible presence. Most of all it's scary to think that Merlin has every motive to look at them like that because due to his hallucinations he very well might not understand that they are here to stay, Arthur especially.

So the duo sits in more or less companionable silence as Merlin flips through the TV channels sans remote without really looking at anything in particular and Arthur continues to officialize his transfer from London to Bristol. Though Uther would never admit that he remembers Camelot in this at least the father and son are in complete agreement. Kids these days grow up way too slowly. Why, if Arthur had actually been forced to wait until he was eighteen or, even worse, until he had a business degree, to start doing what he knows very well he can do without some university telling him so, he might have gone mad. But in one of the few decisions Arthur is actually thankful to his father for Uther had brought Arthur in as an intern at fourteen and had been gradually increasing Arthur's responsibilities and clearance every year since. Now, at seventeen Arthur is fully, and legally, capable of co-running one of the smaller branches under advisement from an older manager. Intellectually capable at least. It remains to been seen how the people he'll be managing will react to being directed by a minor. He's not too worried though. If his years as King had taught him anything it was to trust in his natural leadership ability. He simply has to be himself.

"Arthur?"

He looks up from his e-mail. "Yeah Merlin?"

Merlin jerks his head towards the door. "Gwaine's here. Should I get the door?"

A moment later the sound of someone gently kicking at the door confirms Merlin's words. Arthur stands. "I've got it. No sense in you tripping over your feet with our breakfast and forcing Gwaine to re-acquire it."

Merlin shrugs and Arthur grits his teeth in frustration. Every time he thinks he's getting somewhere Merlin retreats back into himself.

Gwaine slides the plates holding eggs, sausage and sliced toast onto the single desk and then gestures to Arthur to take the cups of juice and coffee held gingerly between his arm and torso. As soon as he's free of encumbrances he fishes around in his pocket, pulls out an apple and bites into it with a satisfied crunch. Flipping his other hand out towards Merlin he grins. "Ready to get some real food in you?"

Merlin takes one look at the obviously reheated-too-many-times eggs and overly greasy meat and frowns. "Sure. Where is it?"

Gwaine chuckles and grabs Merlin's arm. "C'mon. We both know you've eaten worse."

"Yeah, but that was in the fifth century." Merlin protests as Gwaine hauls him to his feet and patiently provides support as Merlin walks across the room, grabs some grub and sits down in the single chair just before Arthur can return to his seat.

"Hey!"

Merlin looks up at Arthur and smiles oddly. "Do you want your seat back?"

Knowing that Merlin isn't just teasing Arthur shakes his head exasperatedly and grabs some food of his own as well as one of the coffees before pushing the single orange juice towards the warlock.

"Drink up Merlin. The last thing we need is you fainting on us."

Obediently Merlin finishes off his meager breakfast and, too the surprise of the others, begins fiddling with the open laptop rather than going straight back to sleep. Arthur and Gwaine grin softly to each other at this clear sign of Merlin's gradual recovery.

"What exactly are you attempting to do?" Arthur asks as he leans over Merlin's shoulder.

"Just figuring out how the systems work. Last time I had access to a computer they couldn't do nearly this much."

Arthur quiets briefly at the reminder of Merlin's last ten years and then shrugs it off. If Merlin doesn't want to talk about it then he'll try not to think about it too much. He's still a bit … off, but Arthur's sure that Merlin won't try to leave them now and, for now, that's enough.

"Here. If you right click you can bring up another menu."

Gwaine watches fondly as Arthur points out various features and Merlin happily clicks around the internet. It's good for Arthur to have Merlin back. The heir would never admit it, but he's more relaxed now, more open. Gwaine had known him for almost two years this time around and during that entire time Arthur had been tense, as if constantly on the lookout for any sign of his best friend. This had made him more abrupt and though Arthur never lashed out like he had as a prince it had created the opposite effect, causing him to withdraw into silence until he could release his anger or irritation out of sight. It's only been two days since they'd found Merlin, yet it's already clear to see that Arthur doesn't feel the same need to be on constant guard.

**OoO**

The trio spends most of the morning lounging around while Gwaine and Merlin teach each other card games and Arthur hunts for an apartment near both his new school and his new workplace. The community college where he'll be taking several classes as well is unfortunately all the way across town but there's no helping that. He and Leon hadn't brought up transferring the knight to Bristol to Uther yet but Arthur can't see another readily feasible solution. Gwaine can hardly be expected to quit his job though Arthur knows the man would do it in a heartbeat if it were to help Merlin. None of the others are out of school yet- Arthur curses under his breath and takes a moment to watch Merlin scan his hand and lay down a nine of hearts.

"I win!"

Arthur shakes his head. "Trust you to be a cardshark at Go Fish Gwaine." He calls out eliciting laughter from the man. Merlin's torso shakes slightly and Arthur's just about to ask what's wrong when he realizes that he's laughing. Heart swelling with happiness of his own Arthur turns back to the contact list he'd pulled up.

What about Percival? Last he'd heard the man was working as a sailor, but it had been a temporary job.

"Hey Gwaine?"

Without looking up Gwaine deals the deck. "Yeah Princess?"

"Do you know if Percival is back in port?"

"Yeah. He was looking for another job in Dublin last I heard."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "And when was that?"

"Last week. I'm sure he'd be willing to come hang with Merlin if you asked though. It's the dry season for his line of work so it's not exactly like he has a whole lot going on."

A phone call and a brief explanation later and Merlin is handed the phone to his uncertain reluctance.

"Hello? Merlin?"

Merlin gives him a shaky grin despite Percival being unable to see it. "Hi Perc. Long time no see."

"It's good to have you back with us, my friend."

**OoO**

_At night Merlin walks in mists. Cliffs loom out of the fog to swallow him whole. Figures like wraiths flicker in the corners of his vision only to vanish when he turns to face them. Up ahead black carrion birds rise and fall over a single bundle laying facedown on the indeterminable surface. Merlin runs forward with the laughter of children like hellhounds at his heels. Collapsing on his knees he rolls the figure over and cries out in naked horror._

The screams pierce his sleep leaving Merlin to scramble upright as they die off. Standing over him is his King. Sobbing with fear he throws himself into the waiting arms fleeing from the horror of the voiceless screams that had awoken him.

"-lin. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Mer-"

Gradually his tremors subside and he lifts his face to meet Arthur's own.

"Merlin?"

He nods soundlessly. His throat is tight and scratchy; his face swollen with tears. Some small part of him recoils at the thought of anyone, Arthur most of all, seeing him like this but his protests are drowned out by his overwhelming need to know that Arthur is here and that everything is ok because Arthur being ok makes it so.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head but begins to speak anyways. "Someone was screaming." He can't think of anything else. There isn't anything else. He'd been asleep and the screams had woken him.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice is calm and still, an eye in the storm. "That was you. I heard you all the way from my room."

Oh. Merlin buries his head back into Arthur's arms unheeding of the tremors that wrack his body or of Arthur's increasingly worried attempts to snap him out of it. Hours or an eternity later he succumbs to sleep once more leaving Arthur behind to lift him back into his bed and sit there, the rest of the night, keeping watch over his friend who is almost a brother till dawn.

**OoO**

The next morning Arthur wakes with an ache between his shoulder blades and his head drooping over his own lap. The events of the night before strike to the forefront of his thoughts in an instant.

Merlin sleeps peacefully. The morning light stretches across his face illuminating his pale features in gold. It brings, Arthur things, a healthy glow to his pallor. Merlin shifts out of the sunlight revealing the illusion for what it is. Arthur leaves him sleep.

When Merlin joins Arthur in the kitchenette it becomes obvious that the warlock has no remembrance of the night's events. Arthur smiles as Merlin cheerily bids him good morning and assembles his breakfast without a single shadow crossing his eyes and waits until he is settled in his seat before announcing his plans.

"I've got to go in today and meet with the manager. I'd like you to stay in the apartment."

Merlin nods but Arthur can tell that the man is merely acknowledging his words not agreeing to heed them.

"I mean it Merlin. For all intents and purposes you are a wanted man. Gwaine's working on changing that but he gets us the ID's-"

"No one will see me."

The soft surety in his voice unseats Arthur's list of arguments. Merlin had been so unsettlingly complacent since they'd found him. This is the first issue Merlin has pushed back on even just to show his displeasure and Arthur's not sure he can withstand the calm plea in Merlin's eyes. _Don't leave me alone. Don't make me wait for you._

"Fine. But just for today and if you so much as breathe loudly where someone might hear you then this will never happen again."

Merlin accepts the threat as he has accepted everything lately, without a protest. "Thank you Arthur."

Arthur merely bumps him lightly on the shoulder and drops his dishes in the sink to be cleaned later. Half an hour later they're pulling up to the drab grey building housing Pendragon Inc. Leaving Merlin to follow behind him he takes a deep breath. It's time for him to act like a king; someone with both authority and humility, someone who can lead, but when necessary, follow.

The manager turns out to be a mild mannered man with grey eyes the color of steel.

"You're father, pardon my saying so, is not overly found of sharing power." He explains in response to Arthur's surprise. "I would not be surprised if many of his managers were like me, skilled but," here he laughs ruefully, "honestly rather lacking in ambition. I'll be here to lend my support and guide you in whatever ways are necessary and will of course report on your choices and actions in regards to this branch to your father."

Arthur nods. "Of course. I should like to think we will work well together. Would you mind-"

He is aware of Merlin's presence the entire time. It is a shimmer in the air and a tug at the back of his mind. Many times, during his reign in Camelot he had felt a similar tug and dismissed it. Had he realized then what he knows now, that the tug has always pointed towards Merlin, he doesn't know what he would have done. It would have depended, he supposes, on when exactly the revelation had occurred. Certainly there were times, had he even suspected the magic of Emrys within his manservant he would have killed the man on the spot. The reality of that truth sits heavy within his heart. If anything can remain a secret between two souls who know each other as well as they, he hopes it can be this, that Merlin might never know the extent to which he might have been betrayed by his King.


End file.
